where i lose myself
by Jessthehusky
Summary: A strange obsession, twisted into an odd kind of love and adoration mixed with mutual respect. Changing a person can be a difficult task, but there's no use in not trying. Eventual Mike/Red. Rating will go up.
1. one

**i haven't posted anything in a while, have i? sorry about that! anyways, here you go. this story will have several chapters and hopefully i can bring myself to finish it. the title is from 'Breathe Into Me' by RED.**

* * *

_and if it looks to me like you and your reflection _  
_plan to add your own fire to this dimension. _  
_then tell it that this is ain't no free for all to see._  
_there's only three... it's just you and me against me._

It was a lovely day. The sky was a clear blue with puffy white clouds dotting it here and there, the sun was bright and warm, the air was fresh and warm and carried a sweet smell - but the people of Deluxe didn't know that. Confined to a life in a pod, brainwashed to believe that this was a just life, that they were safe and free under the iron fist of a man with a god complex. If they even dared lash out against him they would be imprisoned, or worse, killed.

The underground retreat beneath the so-called utopia thrived much more. They were able to wander the streets freely, wear what they pleased, and did not have to follow anybody's orders. While the lack of a direct government would have been disastrous anywhere else, it meant better living when it came to Detroit. Yet they still longed to see the sunshine, listen to birds that weren't mutated into something ugly sing, breathe fresh air.

Electrical wires stretched across the ground and over walls sparked occasionally, water dripped from leaky pipes and the air was full of dust and god knows what else. Detroit had been a polluted city before Deluxe, and all that air was stuck in this confined space now. Yet advanced medicine proved to work well, no one getting sick frequently and children being born without defects thanks to their mothers breathing in toxic air.

There was the soft hum of life throughout the city. Citizens sat on benches, relaxed in little restaurants even if the food wasn't great, walked along the pavements and talked to one another. The threat of Kane's bots bursting in was always great, yet no one seemed nervous. They had protection, people they could trust to fend off any attacks on their dirty yet lovely city.

The railing creaked beneath added weight, the bars wobbly and unsturdy as if they were ready to give way at any moment and send the teenager plummeting to the sidewalk below, just to become a stain there for years to come. Mike dragged his teeth along his bottom lip slowly before biting down lightly. His jacket was discarded to the side, sweat was causing the back of his t-shirt to stick to his back. Where his hair met the nape of his neck it was plastered to his skin.

It got so unbearably hot in Motor City sometimes. Nowadays people spent their time around Lake Erie, letting the water cool down their bodies whilst mechanics worked on installing more air conditioners around the city. The last thing Detroit needed was everyone suffering from heat stroke. Their hospital had been partially destroyed by Kane's bots, and didn't have much room left in it or many willing doctors. It was essential that the citizens were kept entirely from harm whenever they could be. Luckily Kane's attacks were usually planned and Mike would know when to begin evacuation to a safer area of the city.

The attack for the week was earlier that morning. It was easily fought, and only a few buildings were destroyed but there were still bomb shells here and there that needed proper deactivation before inhabitants could safely return to said area. They didn't want or need anything blowing up in anyone's face. Texas suffered minor injuries from his car flipping over. Just a sprained ankle that would heal in the next few days. Of course, the man had been furious, claiming that he was now a liability to the Burners and that without him being able to fight they were practically helpless.

Everyone laughed.

But that was earlier. Now Mike had retreated back to the Skylark Motel, sat in his room for hours on end just because he needed to be _alone_. He was friendly, he was kind, he was compassionate and he was considerate. Yet that did not mean he wasn't stressed. Having the burden of protecting an entire city on your shoulders, the constant attacks, the planning and just the general _vive la revolution_ bullshit would make anyone who wasn't raised and groomed for this sort of thing crumble from pressure.

Mike had been, however, raised and groomed from a young age to be something like a soldier. When his mother left Detroit Deluxe to find a better life, his father was left without much to live for except his only son. He couldn't find proper work, due to being a mechanic; cars weren't allowed in Deluxe. Seeing his father crumble to such a state had caused him to force himself to become stronger. Maybe he had been a bit of a rabblerouser as a child, always managing to sneak from his pod and run about the city, hiding from the bots until they eventually found him and returned him home.

At age thirteen he joined Kane's forces. He had always been known as that cheerful, smiley kid that everyone liked and tended to tease a lot. It had been no wonder that he moved so fast up the ranks, with his attitude and loyal disposition. "Kind of like a dog," Kane had mused, "let's just hope he knows where his leash ends."

He had grown used to people pressing high expectations onto him, to people continuously telling him _don't mess up, don't mess up, you'll screw everything we worked for over if you mess up_. There was only one thing that mattered then: Abraham Kane and his cause. Don't screw up. Respect him. Adore him. Be loyal. Obey.

Of course, all that had been a crock of bullshit and more and Mike had found that out soon enough. It'd been nearly two years since then - today he turned eighteen. A fight in the morning to celebrate being a legal adult now, wonderful. Yet it did pump him full of adrenaline and left him with enough energy to make it through the day. Jacob insisted on celebration, telling him that you only turn eighteen once, might as well make it memorable. But Mike refused with a smile, saying it was just like any other day, he was just one year older. Just so long as he got to spend it in peace with the company of his friends he'd be fine.

Peace wasn't what he got, which in the end pushed him far from his Burners for a good portion of the day. Of course he felt guilty! Why wouldn't he? When he ran off like this it worried his friends. Mike didn't want to come off as a typical mopey teenager because he wasn't. He hoped they understood why he needed time to himself every so often. It was a normal thing. Everyone needed it. But he was their leader and he _had_ to be there for them. He had to explain the next course of action and he had to be strong for them.

Swallowing the lump in his dry throat, Mike ran his fingers along the top of the railing, the metal cool beneath is fingers which shocked him when it came in contact with his hot skin. He drew his hand back, instead shoving it into the pocket of his jeans awkwardly, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he had been startled so easily by the change of temperature. "Heh, calm down Mike, nothing to worry about," he mumbled to himself, yet there was something in the air that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle with unease and bile rise in his throat.

He turned abruptly on his heel and trotted into his room, slamming the door to the balcony shut without a second thought.

Somewhere else, not too far away, the thinnest tendrils of smoke rose into the generally clean air of Deluxe. If he was found up here, he would be in a lot of trouble. Not that he cared. Kane was just a tool to him in finding and killing Mike Chilton - something he had been attempting for nearly two years. Two years... since then, he had advanced greatly in his fighting technique, his technology, his weapons. Every time they ran into one another, it was becoming harder and harder for Mike to get away safely.

Any day now, Mike would be in a crumpled heap on the ground surrounded by his own blood. His assailant would be standing over him with the sickest sense of satisfaction. That was for his family. That was for everyone who didn't get out in time.

Shifting his legs, the metal of his improved armor scratched along the pristine white surface of the roof. With a finger he flicked ash of the tip of his cigarette. Smoking and any other kinds of drug use was strictly prohibited in Deluxe. It tarnished the so-called perfect image that Kane tried so hard to keep whilst the city was under his subtle dictatorship. It was a wonder that the majority of its citizens hadn't noticed yet, and anyone who did quickly migrated to Motor City.

His stomach did a flip at the thought. Motor City. His home. Well, his _old_ home.

Red, as he was called, was born and raised in Motor City twenty years ago. It had been around the time Kane had begun the transition from old Detroit to Deluxe, when KaneCo had actually been trying to help people. Red and his family refused to move, as did a few other citizens. They had to be sent to older houses along the edge of the city where he spent the majority of his life.

While it may have been difficult to tell now, he was a shy and reserved child. He had been interested in painting but wasn't very good at it, usually spraypainting a red hourglass symbol all over the buildings on the street, or just running around throughout the city before trying to pick fights with people much larger than him. That always earned him a few bruises and scrapes and sent him crying back home where his mother would pick him up and kiss his cheeks before she cleaned up his cuts.

If only he could have done the same thing so easy when she was crushed by tons of debris and cement and brick the day that one Cadet Chilton led Kane's men to his home, the day it was destroyed along with the rest of his life. Red had been but eighteen then. He remembered returning later that day, blood leaking from his now partially blind left eye and running down his cheek, smearing across the rest of his cheek. He stared with his one good eye across the wreckage for any signs of life. It caused him to scramble forward, digging through the blocks of cement.

The image scarred into his mind forever was the one of his parents bleeding from their heads, their noses, their mouths. Their limbs were crushed as were the rest of the bones throughout their bodies.

He didn't bother looking for _her_. _She_ would have caused him to go insane he had had found _her_ dead. Red would have snapped completely. While it obviously happened, seeing _her_ dead body would have been his breaking point.

Red had screamed and sobbed, he had cursed the man who was responsible for all this until his throat was sore and he couldn't speak above a mere whisper. He remembered men and women in black suits appearing some time later, possibly looking for survivors that may have been left behind, and coaxed him to his feet. He had been terribly silent as they led him to a rather large building for him to stay in for his eye and other wounds to be treated. There was one man he briefly remembered. Dark-skinned, shades, a smirk that made him look like he told a really sly joke that no one else got. But he couldn't remember his name for the life of him.

They had asked his name. He didn't want to tell them, so he just responded with, "Red." That worked enough for them. As far as Red was concerned, that was his real name now. He couldn't really remember what his birthname was. It was pushed so far back into his head it was nearly wiped completely from his memory.

Afterwards he had left the establishment. He found a shitty, small house to stay in. After working crappy job after crappy job to get money, practicing and familiarizing himself with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, lifting weights, taking morning and evening runs and eating things that wouldn't hinder his ability to fight. Then he gathered fabrics, he made a suit for himself, he found pieces of scrap metal and bought an old helmet, cleaned them all, and began forging armor. All while doing this, he had to go out and find a car. There was a large red one in the junkyard. At that time it had been watched over by some megalomaniacal man, which meant Red had to have been sneaky.

The car definitely got modifications. It was turned into a death machine. The whole thing was a safety hazard... for whoever was up against it. It took an entire year until he was done. That's when he knew he had been ready to chase after Mike Chilton, whom he had gathered as much information about as he could.

Red stared blankly at nothing with his good eye as he thought. Then he ran his tongue out over his lips, dropping the butt of the cigarette over the edge of the building and watching it fall and fall and fall. A passing bot zapped it, incinerating it completely before it could hit the ground.

Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs which led to the roof. Red hopped to his feet, sliding his helmet back into place and clicking the latches so it held firm just in time to hear the crackle of static coming from the giant hologram projected off the roof as somebody passed through it. Kane's loud, booming voice rattled through the speakers in his helmet. "Revengo, I have a job for you." Kane didn't sound pleased to find the assassin up here, but he said nothing of it.

Red turned around on his heel, peering at the man in front of him through his visor. Though he was sneering behind the helmet, his voice sounded the same as the rest of Kane's dogs: attentive, yet almost sickly sweet.

"Anything for _you,_ sir."


	2. two

_psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est,_  
_fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-far, better run run run run run run run away._

The soles of his boots clicked against the tiled floor as Red moved, scanning everything that his visor allowed him to see. Below him, he could make out his reflection in the pristine marble tiles and he was so, so tempted to scuff the floor here and there. Kane couldn't do anything about it. To Kane, Red was just an asset on getting Mike Chilton, as Kane was just an asset on getting Mike Chilton to Red. In short, they needed one another but weren't planning on being very loyal in the end and both of them knew it.

Wherever he walked, Kane's men shied away from him. Even a large group of then were too intimidated to confront him. Possibly because there had been instances when some wise guy provoked him and was soon sent to the medical bay, thus getting across the message Red was not a force to be dealt with. He had no qualms in putting people in their place, but he did not kill them... His priority was to kill only Mike, but if anyone got in his way he wouldn't hesitate.

Kane had told him he had a job for Red, before abruptly leaving to his office. Obviously he wanted Red to meet him there. Part of the young man didn't even want to bother with it, but he had to keep up the act of a faithful dog if he ever wanted to reach Mike.

When he neared the sliding doors, his hand ran along the surface of the wall and he narrowed his good eye behind his visor, leaning in close to the door. There were people talking inside. He recognized the deep, grating voice of Kane accompanied by the higher pitched and softer voice of a girl. Occasionally, Kane's sad excuse for a right-hand-man would throw in a nosnensical comment but was ignored.

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea, you know. It'll be one against all the Burners, and you know all the other attempts have failed-"

"-Julie, I have this all planned out. The Burners are trying to recover from the earlier attack and they aren't expecting any others today. Besides, it wouldn't be much of a fight. I'm sure he could get Chilton alone. You're acting like you're _worried_ about him."

Red bit back a snort. He could practically hear the cringe in Julie's voice when she responded to her father's comment, "Just looking out for a fellow worker's wellbeing! Heheh." It was forced and half-hearted. Kane was blind if he couldn't see his own daughter's betrayal. But Red wasn't as much of an idiot as Kane was. He had encountered the Burners enough times by now to have noticed her among them.

He pulled back just in time for the doors to slide open and for the teenage girl to saunter out. Julie froze in front of him and Red stared her down. Though she couldn't see his face, he was sneering behind the helmet. "He's, uh, in there," Julie mumbled. _Thank you, captain obvious._ Red nodded. As she began to move past him he caught her thin wrist, his grip tight and threatening. It was like he was ready to snap her hand off. The girl jolted and turned her head to look at him, big eyes wide. The assassin leaned in to mutter to her, "Tell your Burners about this and I'll make sure your dad knows your dirty little secret." His tongue dragged over his lips. "And you might not wake up tomorrow morning."

Without waiting for a response, he let her arm go and marched into the room, the doors sliding shut behind him. On one side, Tooley was watching some children's cartoon and laughing at it. Why Kane chose him was beyond Red but he didn't ask. Maybe there was a reason. Shaking his head, he took a look around the room.

It was too white, too clean, too shiny. Almost every wall was covered in windows which gave the dictator a good look across the city. Pods hovered and floated through the air outside, and within their confines were innocent people living out a too-safe life, oblivious to Kane's tyranny. Idiots.

The man was scanning over his domain. Red approached slowly, coming up beside him. Standing right in front of him could have been taken as an aggressive gesture, and he needed Kane comfortable around him. When he spoke, his voice seemed robotic and echoed throughout his helmet, "You want me to go after Mike again. I'm guessing you have a plan."

There was a long silence. Red shifted awkwardly, crossing his arms over his chest and moving his weight from one foot to the other. Then Kane began, "The attack today was just something to give the Burners enough distraction so they wouldn't notice you getting close to their leader." He explained slowly, as if Red was an idiotic child. The assassin frowned behind his helmet. "While everyone else is trying to clean up the mess, you're going to get to Chilton. He's staying in the Skylark Motel, top floor. We've got secret cameras set up there by spies." A pause.

"He's in room 514. You can pick a lock, right?"

Red nodded.

"Good. Getting into the city won't be much of a problem. But don't walk around in _that_," Kane swiveled a little towards Red to gesture at his suit. "I'm sure you have other clothes that'll help you blend in with the _rats_ down there. When you get to the motel, make your way up to his floor. Change into your suit, then get into his room. But _don't_ kill him. Bring him back here. I want the satisfaction of watching him suffer."

Red's nostrils flared but he grudgingly agreed. Really, he'd rather just kill Mike and get it over with. He didn't want anyone but himself to feel the pleasure of murdering Mike Chilton. "Yes, sir."

Getting into Motor City was easy enough. He looked liked any scraggly refugee. His jeans were a bit big on him, ripped in a few places along the legs, and his wife beater was stained in a few areas and clinging to his body tightly. He had to pocket his eyepatch because he knew the symbol on it would give him away immediately, and he got a few looks for the scars along his eye but he quickly shot them down with a glare of his own.

Running a hand through his bright red hair, he slinked through back alleys and in between buildings. Red had to step over sparking wires and piles of trash. There were tiny puddles of filthy water here and there, mixed with dirt and oil that made it a sickening black color. He knew Motor City like the back of his hand, he could navigate it without any problem.

The motel wasn't all that difficult to find. The sign was gleaming and easy to spot over the rooftops of the other buildings. He shifted his bag over his shoulder. It contained his suit which would help him fight better as well as conceal his identity to Mike. The moment he caught and weakened Mike, a few of Kane's men would show up and assist him in relocating Chilton to Deluxe.

He really hoped Kane would give him the honor of killing Mike. He'd torture him first, make him feel excruciating pain, the same pain Red felt when his family died, when everything good in his life was stolen from him. Then he'd kill him. He'd look him right in the eyes and snap his neck and leave his body, naked and bloody and bruised, in Motor City for the Burners to find.

Red was nearly salivating at the thought, getting some weird kind of erotic pleasure at the thought of Mike dying at his hands, his blood soaking his arms and clothes. He licked his lips, stalking through the streets until he approached the entrance to the motel. He wiped a bit of drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth and stopped himself from panting eagerly, swallowing the lump in his throat and straightening his back.

So no suspicion rose, he merely said to the front desk he was there to visit a friend before he walked to the elevator.

Though it was only five stories up, it seemed to take forever. Red's need to hurt Mike made time move by so slowly. It made him grow more and more impatient with each passing moment. His eyes trained themselves on the red number that slowly changed. Then there was a dinging noise when it hit five and the elevator jerked to a stop, causing Red to lose his balance but only momentarily.

Rolling his shoulders, he stepped out of the elevator and into the empty hallway. Fuck hiding to change. There was no one to see him.

He stripped out of his clothes and pull his suit out of his bag, stepping into it and pulling the zipper up tight. Wiggling his fingers, he stepped into his boots and set his helmet over his head, doing up the latches. Stuffing the casual clothes into his bag, he just left it behind a decorative plant and moved down the hallway. 514, 514-ah, there it was.

There was really no need to pick the lock. He was able to snap the handle clean off, disabling the lock noiselessly so he could push the door open. There was a lump on the bed, the form of Mike curled up with his back to the door, side rising and falling with each breath he took. Red's gaze briefly trailed to the door that let out to the balcony. It would be so easy. He'd just grab Mike and throw him over the edge. But no... that would be no fun. Red wanted to make Mike scream in pain and sob and look at him while he died.

He closed the door though it didn't latch for obvious reasons. Red didn't worry about it.

It was lucky his suit was so light so he didn't make any noise as he moved fast over the floor to the bed. Looming over the bed, he finally knelt down on the edge, his weight causing the mattress to sink a bit. Then his hands flew to Mike's throat and the teenager jolted awake, jerking his head to look up at his assailant, wheezing and trying to breathe despite the hands clutching his throat tight. Red could feel the other's adam's apple move under his thumb.

Behind his helmet, a nearly insane grin was plastered on his face, drool dripping out the corners of his mouth as if he was a rabid animal and his eyes were wild. _Finally._ "Hello, Mike," he crooned, voice mocking, "I missed you."


End file.
